


The Life Between Us

by NekoNoKitiKiti



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Dad Thrawn, Drama With Crack, Ezra gets to hold baby!, Finally got some legitimate Thrawn and Ezra father/son bonding, Fluff, Force sensitive!Thrawn, Found Family, General Survival Situations tw, Hurt/Comfort, If that was a concern :3c, Introvert Thrawn vs Extrovert Ezra, M/M, Navigator!Thrawn, Pining, THRAWN DOES NOT HAVE DISMORPHIA/DISPHORIA, Thrass is a wonderful and soft brother, Thrawn and Ezra Dumbass Adventures, Thrawn is a Pine Tree, Thrawn is referred to by at least three pronouns in the same scene, Trans!Thrawn, blood tw, gore tw, he hates it lots and that will continue to be an issue, i cried lots writing this chapter sdnv ldnvd, instead of pining for Gilad now Thrawn's pining for his wonderful brother, labor tw, nausea tw, no beta we die like men, not super in depth but that is the entire premise of chapter 4, once again not in depth, planned pregnancy unplanned circumstances, slight breastfeeding tw, slight gender mindfuck at one point, which is a mood but--
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoNoKitiKiti/pseuds/NekoNoKitiKiti
Summary: The aftermath of the Rebels finale, with our two Space Blueberries.Except here, Thrawn has been trans this entire time. And in an established romantic relationship with one of his fleet captains, Gilad Pellaeon.Thrawn's luck may have run out, now that he's stranded on a deserted planet with a teenager and realizing he's pregnant with Gilad's child.
Relationships: Ezra Bridger & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Gilad Pellaeon/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo, Thrass | Mitth'ras'safis & Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 26





	1. Unexpected

They both supposed it was...

Tolerable, to have to depend on one another.

After the initial anxieties from them suddenly being thrown into wild space together as enemies had passed, they formed some semblance of camaraderie; they had to, if they wanted to survive.

And Ezra was astounded at how well Thrawn took to surviving. It was almost  _ comfortable _ , living off the planet they had found themselves stranded on.

What perhaps took him aback even more was how patient and willing Thrawn was to teach him every nuance of their survival.

Something stung when it reminded him of how the Ghost crew had taken him in, only a few years ago.

It may have only been a few weeks, at most, that they had been stranded, but he missed the chatter and banter, the feeling of the Ghost being full of people and their energy. While Thrawn was more amicable than Ezra had expected, he was hardly adequate company. Ezra learned fairly quickly that Thrawn would either give him a non answer or simply not answer at all if he broke some unspoken boundary, and that was miffing enough for Ezra to stop trying to start a conversation when it happened.

The loneliness he felt was what drove him to seek Thrawn out now. Perhaps they would actually have a conversation today.

He left their little camp; while it was a small comfort, he did at least like that he could sense Thrawn in the force. He was off in a clearing, doing what felt like meditating to Ezra.

And he was unsurprised to find Thrawn practicing some martial art with a stick that was almost perfectly shaped for use as a bo staff.

What Ezra was somewhat surprised by was how shirtless he was. But less about the state of undress than the scars that he couldn't quite figure out what had made them.

After a moment, Thrawn tamped his staff into the ground and pushed his hair back off his forehead, leveling Ezra with his full attention.

'You seem puzzled.'

He guessed he'd been staring a little too openly. Might as well take the bait, though, he had hoped for a conversation, and Thrawn was opening it.

'I'm just trying to figure out... what made the scars, on your chest. They're almost identical. And they're really clean.'

Thrawn huffed, as if debating. Or silently questioning if Ezra genuinely didn't understand.

'They're clean because they are surgical scars, not from where I was wounded at some point.'

When Ezra still looked puzzled, or perhaps concerned, he continued.

'Do people on Lothal not change their gender at times?'

And Ezra... had to admit he hadn't expected that at all.

'Well, it's not... common. But yeah, of course they do. I just didn't think...'

Thrawn gave a curt nod.

'It's not common for my people, either. It... made me feel more comfortable, however.'

Ezra heard the hesitation, but didn't register it as admitting something personal until later.

He did sense that Thrawn had stepped out of his comfort zone, however. To try and keep the interaction going, he looked around for a second, and spotted another small limb that was perhaps not ideal for sparring, but would work well enough.

After picking it up and snapping a few twigs off, he stood several paces away from Thrawn and took the ready position Kanan had taught him.

'I could go for a few rounds, if you'd like a sparring partner.'

* * *

_ 'Gilad, there's something you might--' _

_ He was cut off when the man pressed their lips together, kissing while he worked Thrawn's clothes off. _

_ Thrawn would have reciprocated, had he not had a bit of pressing information to tell Gilad. Despite Thrawn gently trying to push him away, just for a moment, just to warn him, they didn't break except to pull Thrawn's undershirt over his head, and that was hardly any time to try once again to stop him. _

_ When they finally did break for air, Thrawn was naked and pressed into his bed, Gilad leaning over him from where he kneeled between his legs. _

_ Between the panting, he deadpanned. _

_ 'As I was saying--' _

_ But it was really too late; Gilad had already looked his body over, ran gentle thumbpads over the scars on his chest, traced down the hard muscles of his belly, lovingly stroked the inside of his thighs. _

_ He had expected a somber silence. Instead he got Gilad laughing, and it sounded delighted. _

_ '...You don't mind.' _

_ And while he got a verbal answer as well, he supposed Gilad cupping his face and kissing him again was enough of an answer. _

_ He was still giggling when he pulled away. _

_ 'It's not what I was expecting, but I'm certainly not unhappy. Were you expecting me to be?' _

_ A beat. _

_ '...I was unsure how you would react, really.' _

_ The laugh was gone, but his expression was still warm, just like the hands still cupping Thrawn's face. _

_ 'We've been together for months now, this doesn't change that.' _

_ His hands fell from Thrawn's face, one sliding down to rest on his belly again. _

_ '...Though, I do suppose I have questions now.' _

_ With how well this had gone so far, Thrawn's lips quirked into a slight smirk. _

_ 'Can those questions wait?' _

_ Gilad snorted a laugh. _

_ 'No, they probably shouldn't... Can you... Could you... become pregnant?' _

_ He had to admire Gilad's foresight and the amount of gravity he was placing on this. _

_ 'I'm not sure myself. While I have been on hormones for many years, I do still have a menstrual cycle. The possibility is there.' _

_ Gilad let out a shuddering breath. _

_ 'And the Empire isn't exactly forgiving when it comes to asking for contraceptives... I suppose if you did get pregnant, you could--' _

_ Thrawn cut off that train of thought with a sharp look. _

_ 'If the child were between you and I, they would be both intelligent and competent. I would not waste that life simply because the Empire disapproved.' _

_ The man let out another breath, steady, this time. _

_ '...You want this. You would be alright with it, if you ended up pregnant.' _

_ Thrawn reached for the hand still resting on his belly and held it, making a point of looking Gilad in the eyes. _

_ 'I believe that's what I've said, yes.' _

_ Gilad kissed him again, almost reverent this time, threw his clothes off as fast as he could, and then buried himself to the hilt. _

* * *

' _ Gilad... _ '

The memory might have been a moan, but he knew he had woken up with the name on his lips just being a breath, perhaps a plea.

And he knew very well that plea would have been for Gilad to find them, but he had obligations. He and Ezra had already discussed the likelihood of someone coming from either the Empire or the Rebellion, and to Thrawn, the war was simply too consuming for either to be able to spare search parties. Not for one person. Thrawn doubted the Empire would even send a search party for the entire Chimaera…

He was awake now. And just as well, if the light starting to stream through the cracks in the walls of his shelter was any indication, it was dawn already.

There was breakfast to be caught. Traps among the trees to be checked. Flora to be scrutinized and potentially foraged.

And it would still be a while yet before Bridger woke. In the beginning, Thrawn had woken him up at dawn as well, as two sets of hands got work building shelters and checking traps done much faster, but now he let the boy sleep. He pulled his weight when he needed to, and that was really all Thrawn could ask for in their current situation.

As he pushed the door open to his little shelter, he took in the now familiar treeline around them, sparse enough the lavender-blue of the morning sky could be seen between the trees, but dense enough that Thrawn suspected they would be easily missed, should anyone, or anything, that was hostile enter the atmosphere.

Their trapping trail had simply become habit by now. It wound around the general area of their campsite seemingly randomly, but really Thrawn had picked each spot for precise reasons; territorial scratch marks here, burrows another place, signs of preferable foliage having been eaten there. Bridger had shown reluctance for eating the local fauna, but blunty telling him it was eat or starve had at least quieted him. Thrawn supposed he could understand Bridger's reluctance still to actually do the hunting himself, however.

By the time he made his round, the sun was just peaking over the trees, letting shafts of light into their little clearing. While he normally wouldn't have paused while there were things to be done, he did pause just briefly to let the sun warm the glacial pigment of his skin.

The traps had had nothing for them this morning. The stream not far from their camp always had small fish-like creatures, however, suitable for consumption and safe to fish for, as long as they avoided the spines and barbs. Thrawn had yet to experiment, but he suspected the barbs likely had some form of mild venom. The risk of a bacterial infection was enough reason to not fish for them by hand.

Skin warmed pleasantly, he skirted around their dead firepit to his shelter and picked up the basket he had weaved less than a week after crashing and the crude spear, both made specifically for those fish. Both had also been inadvertently painted a dark blue, the basket in splatters and drips and the spear running down from the head, all blood stains from the fish.

Bridger had found it curious; Thrawn had simply taken it as a fact. He had indulged Bridger's curiosity, however. Growing up, there had been many varieties of ocean creatures that had bled a dark blue. The fact that Bridger had been just as curious about it as he himself had been when he had first really thought about the difference between his own blood and another creature's endeared him to the boy, even if it had been reluctant.

Perhaps in another life, given other chances, Bridger would have been similarly talented and competent, rising to whatever path he chose.

Then again, Thrawn had to admit, the boy had surprised  _ him _ , and successfully taken him out of the Empire, along with an entire naval fleet. Perhaps he already was talented and competent in his path.

When he reached the stream, and subsequently the outcrop of smooth, gray, moss covered rock they had unspokenly designated as their access to the stream, he dropped the basket and tapped the butt of the spear to the rock, surveying the basin of running water at the base of the small cliff. The outcrop reminded him of a crude platform, the top being adequately flat and level, but it was obviously a natural formation.

Sure enough, there was a swarm of fish in the basin. One, maybe two, would be enough for their breakfast, but he considered it probably best to catch just slightly more than needed. Bridger was a still maturing human, and the amount he ate varied, running on the more than perhaps necessary end. 

He caught two with practiced ease. The fish seemed rather dim; skewering one made the school scatter, but as soon as the spear and body were removed from the water, they congregated again, barely even noticing the missing member. It made catching them fairly easy, though, and that made it a reliable resource.

As he was shucking the second one off the spear and into the basket, however, something took him off guard. A niggling little feeling in his throat, not unlike the pangs of hunger. Yet, the thought of eating was suddenly offputting.

He pushed the thought of it being nausea away, and turned back to the stream, setting a stern glare on it, as if that would make the feeling disappear on its own.

The third fish was speared easily.

Shucking this one into the basket proved to be harder, though, not for the action itself, but for the sudden smell of too metallic blood and too strong fish. It made his stomach flip, and the crawling pangs come back twice as strong. Kneeling at the basket, he couldn't quite get away from it, but he covered his nose with the back of his forearm, turning away for just a few steadying breaths.

Even after he composed himself, shouldering the basket and heading back to their camp, the nausea didn't subside. The smell became more bearable, it had never bothered him before, but the clawing in his throat never quite went away.

Breaking through the underbrush into their clearing, it was perhaps some comfort, if he allowed himself to feel that, that Bridger was awake, standing in the doorway of his own shelter as if he had only partly emerged before the need to stretch overtook him.

A grin stretched across his face when he saw Thrawn. The Chiss beat him to a greeting.

'You're awake early.'

The boy shrugged, seemingly unperturbed by the dry and level tone; it was endearing, Thrawn supposed, that even in their current situation, Bridger seemed to have some hidden wealth of optimism and a generally sunny disposition.

'Just happened that way. That breakfast?'

Thrawn plopped the basket onto the low, flat stone they had taken to using as a food prepping space in answer. It oozed blue onto the rock. He repressed the urge to gag when the memory of the smell being overwhelming at the stream presented itself.

While Bridger laid the fish out on the stone in a neat row, Thrawn continued to ignore the nausea, or try to, in favor of piling fresh limbs onto their fire pit. When there was enough for a satisfactory cooking fire, he pulled his knife out of his pocket, the only piece of civilization manufactured equipment they had, and struck it against a flinty rock that they had found made decent sparks.

When the fire was suitably alive, he tossed the knife towards Bridger; despite his reluctance to hunt, Bridger had risen to the task of cleaning the fish. He had balked at the gore at first, but it was one of the tasks he had taken without being told to, and for that, especially currently, Thrawn was grateful.

Thrawn kept his back to the food prep, though, positioning himself as if he were just watching the fire for signs of going out prematurely or needing more fuel, which was unlikely when he had built it himself just moments ago. He very purposefully ignored the squelches and flesh cutting noises behind him.

It was only a few minutes before the sounds stopped, and Bridger approached the fire with three skewered fish, gutted, despined, debarbed, and definned. Thrawn took his leave to a fallen trunk, a safe ways away from both the excess heat and fishy smells, and Bridger drove the skewers into the ground, angling the fish just above the flames.

Satisfied with his work, Bridger retreated to a log on his own side of the fire. There was one of those pauses where Thrawn could feel Bridger building himself up to say something, could read it in the way he tensed his shoulders and kept his arms straight down beside him, the look in his eyes that of mulling something over.

The only other place Thrawn had seen that shade of blue naturally was among the varied skin tones of his own people.

Well, that made him hurt for home. Or some sense of normalcy, at the least. 

'..You usually aren't talkative, but you seem… really quiet today.'

Thrawn considered those words. Perhaps he wasn't talkative in Bridger's sense of the word. He and Bridger had very little to discuss, outside of their immediate survival. Or at least, Thrawn saw it that way. Perhaps he would curate Bridger's curiosity, when it was amusing, but otherwise...

'...There's yet to have been much day to be quiet in.'

The boy shrunk slightly, though it wasn't the complete deflation he usually gave when Thrawn deflected him. He seemed to decide to press today.

'It just. Seems like something bothered you. Like something  _ is  _ bothering you. I can feel it.'

He shrugged as he ended it, as if that would soften the reminder he was Force sensitive. Or that he was pressing.

And Thrawn had to admit to himself, he did not know what had started happening this morning, either. It was in both their best interests that he admit it.

'...I admit that I have felt unwell since this morning.'

Like that, the Bridger that had been almost cautious, as if coaxing Thrawn into being comfortable enough to speak, was gone and replaced by the animated teenager he really was.

'Whoa, you're not coming down with something, are you?!'

Thrawn didn't quite make eye contact, almost as if he were considering that himself, as if he  _ hadn't  _ considered it already.

'It hasn't been long enough to say. Other than feeling nauseated... there is no indication I may be falling ill. I believe I have been alive long enough I should know how my body reacts to sickness. This... this is different, however.'

That seemed to be satisfactory enough an answer for Bridger to stop pressing. He turned the fish in lieu of responding.

And as Thrawn sat, considering, a thought did occur to him. The timing would be about right, since the last time he and Gilad...

He forced it down. That scenario would have been bad enough on a star destroyer, even with the planning they had done. Especially now, for the sake of any child that came from them, that could not be true.

But as for now, the nausea had lifted, and one thing was true. He was perhaps hungry enough to rival Bridger.


	2. Wolfcats!

_ Gilad rolled off his lover, panting with a smile on his face, knowing from experience that Thrawn had the same exertion flush, the same satisfied expression, even without looking over at him.  _

_ Just long enough passed for both of their breathing to stabilize, and Gilad felt a shift at his side. Looking over, Thrawn had rolled to his side to watch him, red eyes just brighter than the half light in the room, hair tousled and stuck to his forehead, face and chest still flushed purple. _

_ And Gilad probably had a snide jest at catching Thrawn admiring  _ him  _ in the afterglow, but it died in his throat when he rolled himself to meet him and pressed their lips together, caressing a scar on his breast and then sliding his hand down to below his hip, which Gilad always expected to be fuller under his hands. He supposed vaguely that maybe Chiss women simply had less hipage as some human women, but he would never ask Thrawn, and he doubted he would ever bring it up. _

_ Thrawn moaned and kissed him twice as hard, forcing his mouth open, snaking an arm around him to push him back against the bed. Thrawn liked power, and Gilad was happy to give it to him where he could. _

_ Just as quickly as the force came, it left again, though, and despite the dominating position and the hunger before, the Chiss took to soft, peppered kisses on Gilad's face and neck and shoulder. _

_ Gilad had wound his arms around him automatically, tangling a hand in his hair. He used the leverage to bring Thrawn's head down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, lingering just a moment. _

_ Then he gently slipped out from under the man, and he smirked to himself at seeing Thrawn stay where he was, seeming only halfway committed to pulling a blanket around his hips. _

_ The shower he took was militarily efficient, or it would have been more so, if Gilad hadn't allowed himself to reminisce at the little sighs and quiet moans Thrawn made between giving Gilad orders on how to fuck him… _

_ And when he left the fresher, Thrawn was sprawled across his bed, the flush gone now, but he still pinned Gilad with the same satisfied smirk from before. Gilad cast around for his clothes. _

_ 'Must you leave now?' _

_ He smirked at that as he picked out his pants from the floor. He shrugged as he pulled them on. _

_ 'I should get back to the Harbinger. I do need to sleep before I'm needed on the bridge. And we need to keep up some appearances.' _

_ He ended it with a playful grin; Thrawn could not give any less damns about their appearance, and especially not just after having sex. _

_ No one really paid much attention to the fraternization rules anyhow. Not when there was nothing political in their case. _

_ 'It wouldn't be the first time you arrived back from your 'in person reports' just before your next shift began.' _

_ Gilad pretended to be scathing. _

_ 'Yes, and it took just about everything I could think of to convince my officers that I was NOT having an affair with the Grand Admiral. Especially when I was running on less than two hours of sleep. If that much.' _

_ Said admiral stretched slightly on the bed, as if thinking about that particular affair, where he had manipulated Gilad into staying round after round. He hummed, pleased. _

_ 'Mmh, that was fun. I believe we should do it again.' _

_ Gilad almost laughed at the implied  _ soon _ , or probably more accurate,  _ now _. However, he did have snark to respond with. _

_ 'I think you're  _ trying  _ to get pregnant!' _

_ And Thrawn rarely ever put this much emotion into his expression, but the feral grin he gave Gilad reached his eyes and showed that the teeth past his canines were just as sharp or sharper. Gilad would almost say his eyes glowed brighter. _

_ 'Perhaps I am.' _

_ Something soft and warm fluttered in Gilad's chest at that. It had been long since he had decided the navy was his family, that his crew and officers would be the only children he ever had influence over. _

_ But out of all his lovers, Thrawn was the one he was most matched with, intellectually and drivewise as well as the mutual attraction. If it was Thrawn asking for a personal family with him, he could put aside that decision. _

_ While it was still somewhat snarky, it was soft and genuine when Gilad responded. _

_ 'Then let me guess: you've already begun planning for every outcome? You of all people would know we can't raise a child on a battleship.' _

_ The face Thrawn pulled was one Gilad knew well, even if he normally wasn't on the same bridge as Thrawn: the one he got when he was calculating, considering variables and direct courses of action. But there was a soft cast to it that seemed fitting for how domestic the conversation had turned. _

_ 'It does not seem the Seventh Fleet will be leaving the occupation of Lothal any time soon. I believe it would be a safe option to find residence there, where the child could stay and be looked after, and we would be able to visit without even taking leave, weekly if not close to daily. It may even be wise for me to take medical leave planetside, closer to time.' _

_ Gilad sealed his tunic and tried not to blush at the realization Thrawn was suggesting they buy a  _ house  _ together. Perhaps the blush was from the realization he was excited at the prospect and all it entold. _

_ Perhaps it would be nice, living in the countryside of Lothal, he and Thrawn and a child, perhaps one of the docile lothcats Thrawn had grown fond of since they had occupied Lothal. Post-war and quiet. _

_ Fully dressed, Gilad started out the door of Thrawn's bedroom, the only reason he didn't stop to give Thrawn another kiss on the cheek the threat of being pulled into another of Thrawn's manipulations. Soon, they would spend another full night together soon. In the meantime, he hung at the door frame. _

_ 'Any orders before I leave, sir?' _

_ And Thrawn gave him an amused smirk at that. _

_ 'Report back to the Chimaera as soon as your shift is over. The Grand Admiral would like to have round two as soon as is convenient.' _

_ Gilad suppressed a laugh in favor of a rough 'yes, sir' as he finally left. _

* * *

His eyes fluttered open, landing blurrily on the light dappling through the leaves of the tree he was leaning against and the forgotten knife and twig he had been whittling in his lap. The sun had been directly on him, warming the deep pigment of his skin and diffusing through the stained white of his trousers and the fibers of his undershirt. Now it was perched at the height of the day.

It wasn't like him to doze… He supposed he wouldn't have had the opportunity at all, if he were still in command of a ship… or a fleet.

Inadvertently, there was a pang in his chest. He supposed for his lost crew, the hundreds of thousands of potentially lost lives enlisted in his fleet… but there was only a handful that he could truly grieve for, had known well enough to feel bereaved at the loss.

He very pointedly did not consider Captain Pellaeon in the losses.

Ezra had admitted he had no idea where the purrgils had taken the rest of his fleet. As it was, the only part of the Chimaera that had made it to this planet had been the section of the bridge both of them had been standing on at the time. And Thrawn had hastened them away from the crash site to keep them from running into unwarranted trouble that came to investigate the sudden scar on the planet's surface.

The boy had also said he didn't know if the purrgils had tried to keep anyone except himself, and by proxy, Thrawn, alive, or if they had simply exacted what Ezra had projected: destroy the Imperial ships.

He had become sheepish when Thrawn had told him just how many lives had been aboard those ships, said it had been a foolhardy, desperate plan in the wake of his own grief at his master's death. Thrawn had disagreed; surprise was a sound military tactic, and it had certainly surprised him, where no militia would have. And Gilad…

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't noticed the panic in Gilad's voice over that last transmission. Had it been panic at the fleet losing from unforeseen circumstances? A reasonable fear of death, his own or the crew Thrawn knew Gilad considered his family? Or had it been… the thought of losing Thrawn, and everything they had planned with him?

There had been an unchecked wave of panic in Thrawn when Gilad's transmission cut prematurely.

Ah, there was that pang again. Perhaps he had been considering Gilad among the losses all along, and simply been in denial. There was nothing to be done, if it were true, anyhow.

And yet… today's vision had not been Thrawn's. It had been from  _ Gilad's  _ frame of reference. The humor, the soft flutter of his heart, the imagined domestic life Gilad had never mentioned to him. And underneath the content, there had been a soft fondness, intermingled with the same devastating denial and sadness, one Thrawn himself had found came with reminiscing about his almost nonexistent childhood, his parents and Thrass before he had been taken, and Thrass and the Mitth family afterward.

He breathed, perhaps better and easier than he had for several minutes now, perhaps better than he had since they had crashed on this damn planet, feeling just a smidge lighter, his shoulders dropping from where they had been so tense a moment ago. That had been Gilad, alive and well, and thinking about one of their private moments together.

Thrawn looked over the twig he had been sharpening, then to the growing pile of arrows at his side, taking the blade to his current arrow and continuing where he had drifted off.

If Gilad was out there, and there was any way off this planet in the future, then he wasn't allowing himself to be eaten today.

* * *

There may not be all that much sentient life on this planet, but Ezra had found some comfort since crashing in the multitudes of animals here. They hadn't wandered much farther than their camp since distancing themselves from the crash, probably the most distance either of them had travelled was right here, in the little hollow Ezra had found and chosen as his place to meditate. The vegetation was more grown than the rest of the woods, but at the center was a large stone, almost always touched by either sun or moon light, covered in soft moss. Ezra had wondered if the Force had led him here, if this was a point where a temple would have been created, had this planet ever been populated by sentients. Or Jedi or Sith, at the least.

The most bothersome predators seemed content to leave him and Thrawn alone, especially once Ezra connected with them, relatively shy things that prefered to hunt the small mammals and bird-like creatures that inhabited the forest. They were fairly similar to a cross between a Lothwolf and a Lothcat, smaller with stubby snouts like the cats, but lanky with thick fur like the wolves. A few he had connected with had let him pet them, sniffing a hand cautiously for a moment before bumping their forehead into his palm, and then turning around to trot out of the hollow, satisfied that Ezra wasn't a threat to territory or food availability. In return, Ezra projected where all of Thrawn's traps were to them, and made sure they understood it was best they stay away, from them and their campsite. And thankfully, so far they had not had wolfcat on the menu.

Ezra could feel larger creatures, maybe predators, maybe prey, on the planet, but none of them were anywhere near them. It seemed they had been lucky, or maybe the purrgils had intentionally thrown them to a section of the planet that would be relatively safe.

He noticed some of the small mammals chattering and scurrying in the grass as he plopped himself on top of the stone; it wasn't the Ghost crew, it wasn't his family, but it was peaceful and quiet and  _ life _ . He tried to empty his mind as he pulled his legs in underneath him, breathed in the green, the sunshine, the damp from the moss where he had slightly disturbed it just now. There were hundreds of lives in the shadows of the forest, and he recognized just about all of them by now.

But there was one that gave him pause, and then made his heart leap.

Ezra fluttered his eyes open and in front of him was a great beast with thick white fur, bony armored plates on its brows and snout, the eyes a blue that he had seen so much anger, concern, he realized now, and so much softness in, the fact they were now the shape of a lothwolf's eyes irrelevant. They were still Kanan's sharp gaze.

He reached out to pat the big snout before catching himself; it wasn't the first time Dume had come to him here, and it had hurt the first time, when he reached for him expecting warmth and solid contact, and going straight through the Force projection.

It was nice to know that Kanan was watching over him, all the same. The first time Dume had appeared had been just after Thrawn had softly and calmly informed Ezra just how many hundreds of thousands of Imperials he had potentially killed pulling that purrgil stunt. Thrawn had seemed quietly passive about it, seeming to just accept it, but Ezra had been ashamed. He hadn't fully considered the consequences; even if it had been desperate, and even if it had worked to save Lothal, he still felt personally responsible. He had sought out comfort, but there was no one to ask, and he was not about to bother Thrawn with something so… childish.

He had walked aimlessly, as if running away from it, and ended up here, and Dume had been waiting, the blue of his eyes soft and inviting. Looking back, Ezra had missed the warmth of another person, but the fact Kanan had found him all the same had been enough of a comfort.

Now Dume looked at him, head cocked slightly, amusement dancing on his face. If this had been a normal lothwolf, Ezra might have found a stick to throw or played some other game with it, but it was likely the wolf had some lesson for him.

Ezra grinned up at him lazily.

'Still trying to teach me, huh?'

The wolf snorted, and Ezra could see Kanan huffing in the same amused, sarcastic way, arms crossing over his chest and a sly grin as he told Ezra something he thought should be obvious.

_ 'Child _ .'

Ezra almost laughed, but he did toss his head and roll his eyes, laughter in his voice when he responded.

'I'm not a child still!'

Dume looked at him softly for a moment, then gently shook his great head, ears flicking as they brushed low branches from the movement.

_ 'Look… See. _ '

And he pointed his snout back behind Ezra, in the direction of their camp. Ezra twisted to follow his gaze, seeing the little opening in the underbrush that was the trail he normally took, empty except for plants and shadows.

'What do you mean? Is there someone else--'

When Ezra turned back, he just saw a fluffy white tail weaving away through the trees, eventually fading back into thin air.

While he had intended on meditating, his curiosity got the better of him. He hopped up, and started running back through the forest, jumping over fallen trees, sliding through browned and yellowed fallen leaves from past years that hadn't quite decayed. But he caught sight nor sensed anything that he didn't normally see or feel. He slowed as he approached their camp; if there was one thing he did know about Thrawn, it was he would be on high alert for the rest of the day if Ezra acted as if something had startled him.

The first thing he noticed once he was fully in their camp was the unnecessarily large pile of arrows beside Thrawn, all with handcarved tips and tufts of striped feathers at the other end. Ezra paused to gawk as Thrawn bent a fairly thick, still green branch, stripped of all its offshoots, and slipped a loop into a notch at the very top. He had heard of old fashioned bows, but he had never seen one, and at this point, Ezra had no words for just how often Thrawn surprised him with this kind of thing. He finally found his voice.

'I thought the traps and fish caught us plenty of food, what's with all… this?'

Still sat against a tree, Thrawn knocked an arrow and shot it into a knot in another tree, possibly ten to fifteen meters away. He seemed satisfied with that, and gathered several arrows and stood.

'I've been seeing something, in the woods. It looks predatory in nature, and large enough to pose a threat. I am going to attack it, drive it off at the very least.'

When Thrawn took a step to hurry off into the woods himself, Ezra stepped in front of him, raising his hands to stop him; Thrawn cocked an eyebrow at Ezra's concerned expression and outburst of protest, nonverbally prompting him to explain.

'Whoa, whoa, what do you mean a predator? Like, one of the wolfcats? Because I've told them to stay away, they get it, they're no threat!'

The hard determination in Thrawn's face was replaced by curiosity, pupils dilating slightly wider than Ezra had expected from an alien so close to human. It flitted through his head that Zeb's eyes had widened similarly when he was particularly curious about something.

'...wolfcats? I did not know you had begun naming local fauna, Bridger. Describe them, then.'

Ezra took a couple steps back, gauging he safely had Thrawn's attention enough that he wouldn't just run off now. 

'Well, they're… they're like, a mix between lothcats and lothwolves, so I call them wolfcats. They have these smooshed little noses, like a lothcat, but then they're long, like a lothwolf, and they're kinda shy, really, they usually just run off--'

'How big are they?'

Ezra screeched his rambling to a halt.

'What? Oh, they're. Maybe about this big?'

He spread his hands, not much wider than his shoulders. Thrawn's face turned hard once again.

'...This is not a wolfcat, then. This is much larger, large enough I fear for our safety.'

Ezra thought for a moment, putting a fist to his chin, but nothing came to mind that would fit. The wolfcats were the biggest thing he had encountered, even through the Force.

'I haven't felt anything that big, not here, anyway. I've been connecting with the animals here pretty much since we crashed… What else do you remember about it?'

The response was immediate.

'It was white, and furred.'

And Ezra barked out a laugh at the realization; the man pinned him with a stare that said he was not similarly amused, and Ezra sobered quickly to explain.

'You can't kill that! It's a Force projection of a lothwolf! I've tried touching him, you go right through him! He's just here because I'm here. Well, I guess, I don't see why else he'd be here.'

Thrawn took a moment to process that, visibly relaxing slowly, shoulders dropping, letting out a long breath. If it was possible, Ezra would say the man's face softened; he must have recognized the melancholy tinge to his voice when he finished explaining.

'...The wolf is connected to your master.'

The boy rubbed the back of his neck; Ezra wasn't sure if he was just that easy to read, or if Thrawn was just good at reading others, or some combination of both. He hoped it had been a lucky guess, but he had spent long enough alone with Thrawn that he knew he didn't guess. He  _ extrapolated _ , as Thrawn would put it. But it was perhaps a nice change, for Thrawn to show some emotion. Ezra would take the comfort, if it was being offered.

'In a way, yeah…'

Then a thought occurred to Ezra. His family had never been able to see Force projections before, not the white lothcat, not Dume and the other lothwolves that had stolen them away from danger once. Kanan perhaps would have, but the rest of them, that couldn't use the Force...

'...Actually. You. You could see him..?'

And suddenly the man trained his face into neutral, as if he had already given away too much. He hadn't quite meant to let his concern for Ezra bleed through so much, anyhow… and this was something Ezra wouldn't drop, he was sure.

'...Yes.'

Thrawn turned and began unstringing the bow, trying to close himself off from conversation; as usual with Ezra, it didn't work all that well. The boy just rushed around to face him all the same, consternation pulling his features at such a blatant attempt at evasion.

'Aaaaaand when were you going to tell me you had the Force?'

The Chiss stopped and set burning red eyes on Ezra, drawing himself up to his full height, easily a head and a half taller than the boy; it was perhaps the first time since the crash that Ezra had seen him give off a commanding air, shoulders back and chest proud, oozing that same confidence that was intrinsic with him. There would be little argument for whatever he said.

'I do not have the Sight, and we are not discussing it further.'

The tone was sharp and biting; it was the first time Ezra had ever heard Thrawn speak like that. Even when they had been enemies, he had always been calm, slightly smug, bordering on compassionate when it was useful to him. He felt his shoulders tense and his hands ball into fists despite himself, legs loosening and feet lightening to bound away or strike. But there would be no altercation. Thrawn had already made it clear their chances of survival were better together. The boy still let out a grumbly huff, both to get rid of some of the fight or flight energy and to show his annoyance.

And Thrawn immediately calmed again himself, leaning the unstringed bow against his shelter and looking weary. It went unspoken, but it was no secret between them that everything weighed on them both, the crash, the potential death toll, surviving, no matter how well Thrawn excelled at that, abandoning their respective sides of the war, no matter how desperate or involuntary that had been. They had been here for at least three standard months, with only themselves. 

Maybe Ezra wasn't the only one missing friends or family, and the comfort of other people.

He relented, and went to apologize, but as his gaze dragged up from the ground where it had been fixed in his thoughts, he finally realized what Dume had been saying. To look, to truly see.

When he compared the image of Thrawn in his head, the post-crash Thrawn, it was slightly different than what was there now. His hair had grown to just above his shoulders, something Ezra had noticed before now since it was obvious, but there were things that weren't so obvious, as well. The sharpness of his cheekbones being just slightly softer, his trousers clinging ever so slightly more to his hips and waist. It was baffling to Ezra; they ate just as much as they needed to survive, Thrawn often eating much less than Ezra, not to mention Thrawn devoting hours to keeping up with several martial arts and military training regimens, daily, that Ezra knew were intensive because he had joined him several times, and couldn't keep up with him.

And where he would have expected Thrawn's belly to be as flat as it had always been, there was just the slightest hint of swell to it.

'...You've been gaining weight.'

Ezra hadn't quite intended for it to slip out, but there it was, hanging between them, softly. He mentally kicked himself for saying something so stupid immediately after having struck a nerve with Thrawn. But the man just let out a sigh with his whole body, as if he had been expecting this.

He averted his gaze, the first perhaps sheepish gesture he had made, ever, Ezra supposed, and his face turned slightly purple; the boy had to quell the instinct that told him something was wrong when he realized that was a blush across Thrawn's face. He half expected the hand that came up to Thrawn's belly to scream embarrassed, but he saw what it really was, could have read it through the Force even if he'd been blind. It was  _ protective _ .

'It's my understanding that is what happens when one is pregnant.'

Ezra deadpanned.

'I'm sorry, you're WHAT?!'

There was an exceedingly pregnant pause as they both stared at the other, Thrawn calculating and Ezra baffled. Thrawn seemed to recover first.

'Bridger, do you not understand--'

The human smacked himself in the head when he went to pinch the bridge of his nose, becoming overly animated in his shock and gall.

'No, Thrawn, it's something humans say when they literally cannot comprehend something,  _ what do you mean you're pregnant _ ? How did that even  _ happen _ ?'

When the Chiss paused calculatingly once again and opened his mouth to speak, Ezra hissed.

'Do not. Ask me if I know how that works.'

At that, Thrawn closed his mouth, and thought for another moment.

'This is my state of being, Bridger. It can't be changed now. The circumstances are… not ideal, but none of them were, even the ones I had planned for.'

Ezra suddenly felt much more drained than he rightfully should, like he had grown several years older in the last few minutes. He picked out a tree from the treeline surrounding their camp and flopped down against it, huffing as his back hit the bark. Thrawn seemed to have the same idea, and settled himself against a tree adjacent to Ezra, still plenty close enough to talk.

There was something sombering at the thought he had next. He had to ask, and he had to know, though. If Thrawn would tell him.

'...Don't tell me they were on your flagship.'

And while it was really a closed off gesture, there was something vulnerable in the way Thrawn drew his knees up to his chest and rested his arms on top. 

'He was in my fleet, yes. But not on the Chimaera. Not always.'

The boy let out a shuddering breath; he had been afraid of that. Thrawn seemed to pick up on his fears, though, and continued speaking.

'I cannot speak for the rest of my fleet… But you do not have to worry about having his blood on your hands.'

Ezra turned to him; the softness it had been spoken with, and the shock of Thrawn actually being reassuring, making him need confirmation it had really been said.

'...How do you know that?'

And Thrawn settled back against the tree, craning his neck to look up at the sun as it just started dipping below the treetops.

'I would suppose the same way your master found you here.'


	3. Baby Does A Kick!

This was the latest they had ever gotten back to their camp, the sun almost completely below the horizon, the sky just about turned fully black-purple, moon and stars starting to shine unbelievably bright against the darkness.

Despite having grown very noticeably pregnant in the last couple months, Thrawn had insisted they venture North from their camp, to investigate a ridge of mountains that had been just hidden by the treetops, and were becoming easier to see as about half the trees began to lose leaves. Mountains had caves, he said. Caves would have more stable temperatures, and would be preferable protection against being found by anything entering the atmosphere.

Ezra had started to briefly consider Thrawn was paranoid about that happening. He had mentioned it just a few too many times for Ezra to consider it a legitimate concern, when they had been here five standard months, easily, and not seen the first sign of sentients, let alone travellers passing through. He thought it better to go along with the man, though. 

He had been correct, though. They had found a shelf in the mountainside that gave way to a shallow cave, and while Thrawn had admitted it wouldn't be quite as stable temperaturewise as a deeper cave, it would be better protection against whatever elements would come with winter as it approached. They would begin preparations to move soon, he said, and Ezra thought better of blatantly asking him how when he did not know half of what Thrawn did and Thrawn himself was much too pregnant to be cutting down trees, carrying them up the mountainside, and then constructing shelters. Even together, it didn't seem plausible to Ezra.

And they were both exhausted from the day's trek. Yet, when Ezra had offered to go to the stream to catch their dinner, Thrawn had told him to stay and start their campfire, soft and considerate instead of the hard, I'm-still-capable edge Ezra might have expected. He didn't protest.

As he struck the knife Thrawn had left with him against their flint, he noticed the slight waggle of a large, fluffy, glowing white tail between the trees, following the path Thrawn had taken.

* * *

_ The door to his quarters made a little whoosh, and in stepped a man in an olive green Imperial uniform, ever so slightly shorter than Thrawn, tufts of sandy hair sticking out from his cap, mustache wrinkled in perplexion at suddenly being called to an entire other ship to give a report. He still stood at a respectable attention just inside the door as it whooshed shut behind him. _

_ 'You asked for my reports, sir?' _

_ There was a bit of annoyance in it, just barely, and Thrawn knew he had to be asking why the Hell he was commanded to report to a superior in person, and to their private quarters. Anyone else might have reprimanded Pellaeon for being short, but Thrawn just smirked, thoroughly amused.  _

_ 'Yes. Do go ahead, Captain.' _

_ Pellaeon handed a small folder of datafiles to the Grand Admiral and fell back into parade rest as Thrawn sauntered to a couch in his living space; when he settled and glanced up at Pellaeon with a face that said to continue, the captain launched into his report. _

_ Even as he read along with it, the verbal portion wholly optional, and unnecessary in any other case, there was a swell in Thrawn's chest, pride and confidence, in himself and in this man. Fondness, he had already realized. Perhaps something a bit more passionate tinging it, as well. _

_ He only paid about half his usual attention to the report given. The other half was solely focused on Pellaeon's face, pink lips moving as he talked, brown eyes scorching with commitment and ferocity, and just that hint of amusing annoyance around the edges. Thrawn felt on the border of tipsy already just from his enamorment, but he showed nothing but rapt, serious attention outwardly. _

_ All too soon, the report was over, and Pellaeon seemed relieved to be done with such an unusual request. _

_ 'Will that be all, sir?' _

_ That smirk returned at the edge in his voice again; this had perhaps impressed Thrawn even more than Pellaeon's devotion to the navy and its integrity. The gruffness and scorn that could be hidden in that polite accent and tone, the willingness to question a superior's motives. Confidence and pride in himself without becoming cocky or arrogant. _

_ Thrawn crossed a leg over the other gracefully, laying the datafiles on a side table and stretching the opposite arm across the back of the couch casually. He let amusement show on his face, letting just a hint of fondness come with it. _

_ 'No, I was hoping you would stay and have a drink with me as well, Gilad.' _

_ Pellaeon's face shifted into what Thrawn knew was calculating, sizing up such a request out of the blue. He had expected resistance such as this. Gilad was no fool, he would wonder if this was somehow insidious. After a moment, he seemed to settle on cautious; he thought it was a test, then. _

_ 'That would be highly irregular, sir.' _

_ And Thrawn's smirk widened, ever so slightly; if it had been a test, Pellaeon probably would have passed with that. But in the reality of the situation, it just amused Thrawn further into letting his guard down and his control over his face slip slightly. _

_ 'We are in private, you may drop titles, Gilad. I do insist. Please, sit.' _

_ He motioned to the empty place beside him. There was another careful moment, but Pellaeon seemed to think it was harmless enough, letting his parade rest drop incrementally, then taking tentative steps around the small coffee table to perch on the couch a respectable distance from Thrawn, posture neutral if not just slightly on the stiff side. _

_ At the acceptance, Thrawn pulled two crystal glasses, cut with lovely geometric shapes that reminded him of patterns he had seen painted on his own people on various occasions when he was younger, from a tray in the center of the low table in front of them and poured from a matching decanter two glasses of some dark, heady alcohol that caught the light in a way that made it seem warm and inviting, even in the artificial lighting of an Imperial ship. He handed a glass to Pellaeon, and he noticed Gilad's temperature rise just by a few degrees when Thrawn purposely pulled his hand back belatedly, making their skin graze for just longer than was coincidental. _

_ 'I admit, I do have something I wish to propose to you, Gilad.' _

_ Pellaeon looked over the rim of his glass at him as he brought it to his lips, face and body language still trained to neutral, but there was suspicion in his eyes now as he prompted Thrawn. _

_ 'And what might that be, sir?' _

_ Pellaeon made the mistake of drinking while Thrawn answered. _

_ 'I believe we might be compatible in a romantic capacity.' _

_ And it seemed Gilad had forgotten how to swallow, and he choked on his drink at that. Thrawn would have been worried, if his protest hadn't been forthcoming. _

_ 'S-sir, there are regulations on--!' _

_ A smile split Thrawn's face as he held a hand up to placate the captain. Now Gilad's face was lit up with both heat and a bright blush; Thrawn had heard of his reputation, and the blush was a surprise. Perhaps it was from the implication of breaking rules or maybe at being propositioned by a higher ranking, and male, officer. _

_ 'Peace, Gilad. I'm simply asking you to consider it. Fraternization happens constantly, it's improbable for it not to occur, and yet very few are prosecuted for it. I am asking for something private that would not affect our ranks, or our work.' _

_ Instead of demanding what made Thrawn think he would agree, he just looked at Thrawn, rankled, perplexed. And then the look went a bit softer, the annoyance being replaced by suspicion again. _

_ 'All due respect, sir, but you could easily have any officer, or anyone under your command, for that matter, and they would not resist because of your rank. Why ask me?' _

_Thrawn hummed_ _as he took a drink from his own glass, spiced and burning while the perfect balance of sweet and bitter. Gilad had brought up just the point he had been hoping he would._

_ 'That is precisely why I ask you. I am not commanding a subordinate, Gilad. I am asking, and the other party may say no. I trust you to give me an honest answer, rather than be cowed by my rank. You have proven that to be the case before.' _

_ When Gilad seemed to consider that, Thrawn continued. _

_ 'You do not have to answer now. Please, consider it. What I would like now is for you to stay and talk, as an equal and a friend.' _

_ And as he took another drink in finality on that matter, never breaking eye contact with Gilad, he knew what his answer would be, even though it came several days later, from the way Gilad finally fully relaxed at that, heat signature still running high and face staying dusted pink the rest of their evening together. _

* * *

Something about this evening, the closing darkness, the fact there was more of a chill in the air, perhaps even the earthy and ubiquitous scents of the forest, had just reminded him of Gilad, with no logical steps in between. He had caught himself feeling that way more and more often lately. By all accounts, nothing in this situation should remind him of a lover he had only known on pristine and sterile ships.

And yet, everything and nothing reminded him of Gilad now. He didn't blame the child in his belly, but he knew the hormones, and the lack of therapy hormones his body was used to, was wreaking havoc on his mental faculties.

As he stared down into the stream, pinpointing little blots of heat and preparing to strike, there was a twinge at the top of his belly. His grip tightened on the spear as he tamped it back to the stone and used it to support himself as he winced, laying a hand on his belly. He sighed as the pain dissipated.

'It won't be long now, will it, little one?'

As if in answer, there was another kick. Thrawn laughed breathlessly through the pain this time.

'I'm blaming your father if you're this impatient normally.'

And his heart dropped even as he said it. While he knew Gilad was alive, there was still the thought that the child may never know him. It lent to more emotions he would normally have turned over in his head and then neatly filed away, never to let run fully through him, that could consume him in an instant now.

But his mind supplied him with flashes of what could have been, had the siege on Lothal gone in their favor, or simply never occurred. A comfortable home on Lothal, Gilad visiting just to steal him away from paperwork and him still strategizing even while he was on medical leave, soft joy on Gilad's face as their own personal planning came to fruition, gentle kisses and hands on his belly, just for Gilad to lean up and kiss him sweetly, almost chastely, on the lips.

His face burned at the contempt he felt for wanting those things now. The situation was different, and that's simply how it was. It would do him no good to consider what might have been.

He skewered just over how many fish they probably needed, trying to do so before the child decided to become so active again.

* * *

As tired as they both were after such a long day, it seemed like one of those nights where they simply weren't going to sleep so easily. The bones from their dinner had been tossed in the fire, and as it began to smolder down, they both looked up to the stars.

It had become rarer for Ezra to openly show when he needed closeness to someone, but Thrawn allowed it when he flopped down beside him, not quite close enough to brush against him, but close enough to feel companionable. It wasn't all that surprising to either of them when the boy spoke up.

'You look up at them a lot. Do you recognize anything up there?'

The Chiss reflected before he answered, long past the point of ignoring some of Ezra's more personal questions.

'Bits and pieces. There are times when I think I recognize constellations I studied when I was young, but then the spacing is wrong, or there are extra stars or planets, or they're the wrong color. It's possible some are the very same stars, just from another angle. I did memorize countless starmaps then.'

The boy's curiosity had been piqued, it seemed. He turned from the sky above to focus on Thrawn, who much preferred gazing at the heavens than meeting the boy's gaze when speaking about things he might not have spoken about so easily since… possibly the last time he saw Thrass. Vanto had been a close second, but even then, it had been years. There simply hadn't been time to open up this much to Gilad.

'How young? Like, you make it sound like you were  _ really _ young then.'

And this, specifically, was something he had never mentioned to anyone that was not Chiss.

'If I remember correctly, I was… four? Perhaps five standard years when I was enlisted? Old enough to miss my family. And to realize what a mistake it had been to say anything about having the Sight…'

There was a silent pause, and even without looking at him, he knew Ezra's eyes were wide with questions and the beginnings of realization.

'Sight, you mean the Force? That's what you've called it before! And… and you were enlisted that young..? Is that normal for Chiss, or..?'

Thrawn finally tore his gaze from the sky, and without letting it catch Ezra's, turned it to the dying fire. He had opened this for discussion, but he was starting to get a headache from it. Perhaps the headache was just from needing sleep, really. He sighed.

'No, it's not typical for Chiss children to enlist at such young ages. To academies, yes. To go straight into service, no. Children with the Sight, however, are forced into service as navigators. It worked in my favor, in the end, I rose to Commander and was adopted as trial-born into a ruling family by the age of ten because of my familiarity with my people's navy.'

Some of that went completely over Ezra's head, but what stuck with him was the image of a small, ten year old Thrawn in charge of a ship, half as tall as the adults, yet just as scathing and serious as he was now. He couldn't speak while he processed that image.

And as if Thrawn knew exactly what Ezra was picturing, he finally turned to him, face openly nonplussed.

'From what I've learned, Humans and Chiss age differently.'

Ezra shot him back an equally nonplussed look. He waited for more explanation, but none came.

'Well, you can't just leave that there!'

And miraculously, infuriatingly, Thrawn smirked at him.

'I believe I am, and I believe we both need to get some sleep.'

Neither one could argue against that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter of a chapter this time. Ah well, the next chapter will likely be pretty long :3
> 
> Originally, the only thing I had planned for this chapter was Thrawn's voice cracking from the lack of T (damn fast Chiss metabolisms xD), and Ezra laughing his ass off about it, but the chapter turned out a lot more somber as I wrote it and making a crack scene afterward felt wrong, so the gentle chide for them to go to bed felt softer and more intimate and normal :3 Thrawn is very not immune to adopting Blueberry Son. :3c (And as of next chapter, there will be TWO Blueberry Children in the woods >:3c)


	4. Child

When he woke, laying on his side in his bed of furs and grass, an arm cradling the tight swell of his belly protectively, it was still pitch black, inside and outside his shelter. The glow from his eyes cast a small amount of light, not that he needed it after six full months of living in the same cramped space. For a bleary moment, he tried to process what had woken him early.

Then he winced and curled in on himself, excitement bleeding into the pain even as it stabbed through his womb. 

So the child would come today.

His heart beat faster, adrenaline and perhaps some nervousness at the thought; in any other situation, he would have said it was just part of the pain response for his heart rate to rise. Perhaps he would have even omitted his own feelings to Gilad.

And now, drawing to the end of his pregnancy, he was almost glad Gilad hadn't seen him like this. Almost, because even now he craved Gilad's affection and reassurances.

As if he had ever needed those things. Navigators, and most Chiss children, learned early on those were things one didn't ask for or actively seek.

These past months, he had often wondered whether that was the correct way to raise his own child. What he had read in preparation had mostly been authored by humans, as the child was half human themself, and he had chillingly found that easily and freely given affection was recommended, until and including reaching maturity.

He vaguely remembered his own biological parents being openly affectionate, even in public, where many would balk and tell them they were doing their children a disservice. They had continued regardless. He better remembered Thrass welcoming him home with open arms when he could no longer be a navigator, letting him cry and grieve their late parents until he fell asleep in his arms as they lay in their childhood bed, bringing him tea and pressing soft kisses to his forehead as he recovered from the surgery to his chest, a tight hug as he was approved a trial-born member of the Mitth family, a different, lingering hug accompanied by a kiss to the cheek as he sent his younger, now commander, brother off one last time.

And this train of thought was not lessening that craving. Rather, it was also making him wish Thrass were here. Thrass, who would have been happy to dote on his precious baby brother and his mate, and the child especially.

Another wave of pain flooded through him, making all his thoughts disappear, anyhow.

* * *

It was hours like that. He would get just comfortable and reason he would get just a few minutes of calm, and just start off to sleep, when another wave would tear through him. They were just precursory to the actual labor. He wished they would stop, so he could rest for when it actually happened.

But as the hours dragged, and the darkness turned to dawn and light started filtering in and raising the light level in his shelter to enough where everything was in graytone, the contractions became more frequent. They stopped paining him so much, and simply became a nuisance.

When he imagined it was already close to full day outside, he heard noises outside, the creak of Ezra's door opening, rustles as he displaced leaves as he walked, silence when he paused, more rustling leaves, hesitant, looking for signs of him having long been up and active, as usual.

And when Ezra no doubt found no traces of morning activity, the rustling came straight to Thrawn's door, and opened it, full light streaming in.

'Thrawn? Hey, you aren't sick again, are you?'

He huffed. Ezra could be thick sometimes. The strength of his own voice surprised himself, in light of what he had been through already this morning.

'The child will come today.'

Ezra paused, still clutching the door, then snapped into animation, making to hurry to his side.

'Whoa, really? Are you okay--?'

And the first time Thrawn had really moved more than a shift here and a roll there was to push himself up to a sitting position, just to glare at the boy. The serious slant to his eyes and the red glow in the darkness stopped Ezra in his tracks, just barely having collapsed to his knees beside his bed.

'Do not. Touch me.'

Ezra raised his hands in surrender, and made his voice appropriately soft.

'Okay, okay, I won't. ...So, what do you do now? Do you just wait? Are you sure I can't help, with something?'

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. Ezra meant no harm, not now, and there were definite things that needed to be done, now that he considered.

If he was correct, the contractions were close enough together that it really wouldn't be that long now. Perhaps it was instinct, he supposed.

'All the clay pots I've made. Go use them to boil water.'

Ezra cocked his head, and Thrawn presumed he was very correct in Ezra not understanding what labor really entailed.

'Boil water?'

It was incredulous, like he thought Thrawn was simply making him do something to get him out of the way or keep him busy. He was patient when he explained.

'Bridger, there will be copious amounts of blood. Much like an open wound, it would risk infection to clean myself or the child with water straight from the river. It does not need to stay boiling or even warm, but it does need to be sterilized, and it's likely I will need as much as you are able to sterilize with our limited capacity to do so.'

The boy was naive, not stupid, and he seemed to understand that explanation well enough to question it no longer. He nodded and took off out the door, seeming to have some urgency about his task.

And Thrawn smiled slightly once he was alone. Wonderful child, Bridger was, really.

* * *

_ The first person he had ever connected his mind to had been his brother. _

_ And if he thought about it, he could still hear Thrass laughing at the revelation, his little sister having the Sight and being able to reach out to him with it! _

_ That had been, of course, when they were both of the Kivu family. And Vurawn had been the family's baby girl that often got confused for a boy. _

_ Well, they hadn't been wrong. How else would Thrawn have found he simply felt more comfortable being male. _

_ But because of his bond with Thrass, he could picture the moment he had voiced that opinion from both sides. _

_ Thrass, offering his hand to his younger sister, her hair short and slicked back, face tired and looking as if she'd been crying--he had been--, trying to cover her navigator uniform with the fluffy jacket he had given to her as they crunched through the snow on the way home. _

_ She would be home permanently now. His heart ached. He had her back, safe and in one piece, but he had to explain their parents to her, if she didn't catch on by the time they were home. Even without the Sight, she had always caught on to everything. _

_ And then she stopped, not letting go of his hand and jerking him to a stop as well. When he looked back, there was resolve in her face. _

_ 'Vurass, I must admit something.' _

_ He didn't correct her. One of the better pieces of news he had for her was their consideration for adoption by the Mitth family. Thrass had been accepted already. The only thing keeping his sister's acceptance was her own consent, or lack thereof, since she had been a navigator until today. _

_ 'Whatever it is, you needn't be so hesitant with your brother.' _

_ While it had been playful, a try at banter they used to carry on with, her face seemed to harden more serious still. _

_ 'I do not wish to be seen as female any longer.' _

_ And Thrass took both of his sibling's hands. The softness must have surprised them; had they expected resistance? _

_ 'What do you wish to be seen as, then?' _

_ There was a glint in their eyes, of recognition, perhaps of getting what they wanted finally. _

_ 'A warrior. Calculating. Confident. Things we so often label as masculine traits. I wish to be your brother, a son to our parents.' _

_ Thrass pulled him close; even in the heavy snow, it was the warmest he had been in probable years. _

_ 'Brother or sister to me, I will love you all the same. Let us go home, brother.' _

* * *

In the interest of keeping blood and any other manner of bodily fluids off his bedding, he had moved outside, off some ways away from their camp, but close enough Ezra could see him as he sat leaned against a tree and just… waited.

The contractions were worse, and painful again. 

Ezra had respectfully averted his eyes and rubbed his neck in embarrassment when Thrawn had stripped all his clothes off, as well. There was simply no other option. This wouldn't be a clean or streamlined process without the appropriate medical attention. Thrawn had resigned himself to that the moment he was certain he was pregnant.

And it couldn't possibly be more than an hour or two before the child was actually born. If that.

* * *

_ His younger brother had been crying again, he could tell. He would never tell Thrawn, but his eyes dimmed after crying, and when he was home, and didn't bother with the red eyeliner, it was even easier to tell there was a ring of red-purple around them. _

_ Thrawn did not cry, however, so this worried Thrass. He had long since seen the change from his discharged navigator brother to the stern and collected commander his brother had become. To say Thrawn had been crying again would imply he did often, and Thrass would know. And he knew Thrawn hadn't cried in at least a year, easily. _

_ 'You've been crying.' _

_ He didn't seem surprised by the comment, probably knew Thrass would see and press. He just paused for a moment, considered what to respond with. _

_ 'I was not upset.' _

_ Thrass was still slightly taken aback at how deep his brother's voice was now, despite it having changed years ago. But it was still soft around the edges, even with the command and strength in it. There were reasons Commander Mitth'raw'nuruodo was often spoken highly of by his crew and subordinates. _

_ He smiled with relief; he would not have to kick someone's ass over making his brother upset today. _

_ 'Pray tell, what _ were  _ you crying about?' _

_ Unexpectedly, his brother lowered his gaze and blushed just slightly. _

_ 'It may be nothing, really, but… I had realized that continuing to have my menstrual cycle despite the hormone therapy would allow me to have children in the future. It was… overwhelming.' _

_ Thrass wondered; Thrawn had said he had not been upset. Continuing was merely for his own clarification at this point. _

_ 'And that doesn't upset you?' _

_ And his brother's eyes snapped back up to meet his gaze; they were as bright as they normally were, now. _

_ 'Of course not. Even when I was young, I wanted children, you know that, Thrass. That has not changed even though I have. I'm overjoyed, really.' _

_ Thrawn could still hear his brother's enthusiastic laugh at that, and it made him wish he were here in the present with him. _

_ Less than a week after that encounter, Thrass had been lost to the void of space. And less than a month had seen Thrawn mounting a preemptive strike and being exiled from his people. _

_ Through the more painful parts of the birth, he could have sworn he saw glimpses of red eyes in his peripheral, and the press of Thrass' lips on his temple. _

_ Sight nonsense, he thought bitterly. _

* * *

The baby boy was remarkably healthy for having been borne while stranded. With the umbilical cord cut, and both of them washed as best as possible, Thrawn had left for his shelter and come back with the child wrapped in one of the furs from his bedding and his trousers back on. The child would need to be fed as soon as he finished cleaning up, so there really wasn't much reason to cover his chest.

And the point of him having to murder Ezra for sayng anything about how his chest had swollen as well had passed, he hoped. The boy had been respectful so far. He seemed taken aback at Thrawn approaching him now.

'Are they..?'

Thrawn dropped to a knee in front of him.

'He is healthy, yes.'

Without anything being said between them, Thrawn began to place the child in Ezra's lap, and the boy reached out to meet him, the bundle becoming settled in his arms. And Thrawn stood.

'Wait, where are you going?'

As the Chiss turned back to his shelter, he responded.

'There are still things to be done. Watch the child for a few moments, Bridger.'

In his peripheral, he could see Ezra's face turning concerned.

'You sure? I mean, shouldn't you rest or something now?'

And Thrawn didn't answer until he was headed back the other way, a carved shovel in hand. He did pause to level a look down at Ezra.

'While that Force creature you call Dume may be keeping the larger predators away from us, I am not allowing the potential of predators to be  _ drawn _ near our camp by the smell of fresh blood and flesh.'

He simply continued back into the forest, and Ezra was still concerned, even as Thrawn barely seemed bothered at all by the extra work of overturning the blood stained earth and burying the afterbirth just deep enough so nothing would be tempted to dig for it.

In the meantime, Ezra gazed down at the bundle in his arms. Between the wraps of tufted fur, there was a little face, bruised a similar purple to when Thrawn himself became bruised; the color was fading, though, and Ezra could already tell the child was a paler blue than his father. The child seemed to be content with waiting, as he hadn't made so much as a peep since the first few wails of life he had made.

While it was perhaps a bit awkward for Ezra to simply stare down at the child, he found himself dumbfounded, as well. This was special.

When Thrawn came back, he wordlessly took the child back and flopped down against the nearest tree, heaving a sigh as he nestled the bundle where they could latch at his chest.

And after a quiet moment, Ezra stood and strode the few feet between them and flopped down beside him, their arms brushing.

'I will rest now.'

The boy nodded, satisfied with that.

'Good. You need to.'

It seemed the events of the day had made Ezra tired as well, and as he started nodding off, he ended up shifting and laying his head against Thrawn's shoulder.

And he really couldn't chalk it up to anything but instinct when he rested his cheek in Ezra's wild hair.

He was exhausted, even to the point of ignoring the prickling ache of having not been able to share the birth of their son with Gilad. Gilad, who was out in the galaxy somewhere, with no way of reaching or finding them.

Thrawn was about half way to dozing himself when he heard a light snore from Ezra. It woke him just enough for the question he had been pondering for months now to finally answer itself to him.

'Mitth'rae'nuruodo.'

While it was soft, Ezra still woke.

'Hmm?'

'That is the child's name.'

He felt a nod to his shoulder.

'So it's like yours. Is there a shorter way like yours, too?'

And Thrawn settled himself in against the tree and Ezra, letting the last lights of the day lull him into some sense of comfort, just for the moment.

'Thraen.'


End file.
